That Extra Floor
by reincarnatedwitch
Summary: Sequel to 'There's a Crack Behind the Fridge...' The Doctor's back! And what's with that extra floor? Y'know, the one that doesn't exist? And all those murders - Something isn't right here. Good job the Tardis knows what she's doing at least...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! :D So yes - here we go again! It turns out I just can't resist writing this verse, who knew it would be so addictive? :S **

**Again, un-betaed. Feel free to point out any irritating mistakes in reviews (:**

**Disclaimer: *insert funny disclaimer of own creation because author's brain has decide that it's tired and doesn't actually want to work right now***

**Dedication: To Lauren (Or Doctor-John-Holmes to you lot) for being generally amazing, and lovely, and epic, and lovely. (Did i mention lovely?) **

**Happy Extremely-Very-Late Birthday Hollyboppers! :D (These fics seem to be centred around birthdays… who knew that they would be all the motivation I needed?) **

**Here I go again… **

The Doctor looked at the control panel in complete confusion, waving his arms uselessly over the blinking lights. As he bent down to get a closer look the Tardis shuddered again, sending him sprawling over the controls. He heard a shout as the movement sent Amy and Rory crashing to the floor as well.

As he slowly pulled himself upright an alarm sounded, filling the control room with a high pitched metallic screaming.

"Doctor!" Amy shouted from her unladylike position on the floor, "What's going on?"

"I don't know!" He answered, running his long fingers through his hair, and trying to resist the urge to pull it from his head. He knew from experience that it didn't help in a crisis. He tried to make sense of what had happened; one minute they'd been cruising away from the 16th century, the next the control panel had gone up in smoke and the Tardis had thrown an almighty strop. "There's just a load of flashing lights!"

"What do the 'flashing lights' say?" Rory called, trying to draw on his car knowledge.

"Ermm, Oil, Fluid, Rift Energy…" The Doctor reeled off.

"They're all working?"

"No, they're all _not_."

"Oh dear."

"That doesn't even _begin _to cover it Mr Pond"

He had barely finished his sentence before there was another bone-rattling crash, and a corner of the room combusted into red hot flames.

"I'm going in for an emergency landing!" The Doctor announced, "Hold on tight!"

"We are!" Amy growled from her position on the floor. It wasn't fair that the Doctor seemed to have an uncanny ability to keep himself mostly upright.

Said man was currently running madly around, pressing the only buttons that weren't already flashing, and yanking levers in strange new directions - many of which Amy was pretty sure they weren't supposed to bend to.

"Landing in five!" He shouted over the screaming of the alarm and the roaring of the fire. Rory increased his grip on the hand-rail.

"Four!"

Amy struggled into a more upright position, pulling her skirt back down slightly.

"Three!"

Rory freed one of his hands and gripped Amy around the waist.

"Two!"

The screaming of the alarm increased, and Amy was reminded momentarily of a kettle coming to boil.

"One!"

Amy and Rory screamed as the Tardis shuddered violently, and the unmistakable sound of books crashing down in the library shook the floor.

And then… it all stopped. As suddenly as it had begun; the madness finished, leaving the couple gripping each other tightly on the floor.

The Doctor stood in the silence for a moment, before clearing his throat and straightening his bow-tie. He then calmly removed a green fire extinguisher, and set about putting out the flames in the corner, completely ignoring the bundle of companion on the floor.

Amy was the first to open her eyes, prodding her husband hard in the side when she saw the Doctor in the corner of the room, jumping backwards every time he let loose an orange spray of foam. She heaved herself upright on shaky legs, dragging Rory with her, and staggered over to where the madman was stamping out the remains of the fire.

"Will we ever be able to land peacefully?" She asked sternly, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Probably not, no." The Doctor winked back.

"So where - ahh - are we exactly?" Rory groaned as he straightened out his fingers, trying to shift the cramp in his knuckles.

"Give us a moment!" The Doctor mock-complained, "You might not have noticed but I've been a bit busy with the whole _fire _situation."

"Yeah, but it's not really unusual is it? Fire in the Tardis." Amy winked.

"Shut up Pond."The Doctor slapped her arm affectionately and moved around to face the monitor, ignoring Rory's attempts to see around him and check their location. Sometimes he hated the Doctor's habit of gelling his hair to double it's normal height. It just wasn't fair when it came to trying to see over him.

He almost jumped out of his skin, however, when the Doctor suddenly laughed loudly and spun the monitor round to show them where they had landed, just as a tentative knock sounded on the door.

…

They had been sitting, quite happily, in the sitting room; Sherlock dissecting the crap TV, and John trying to keep up with the storyline over the noise of Sherlock's insistent complaints, when a familiar sound filled the room.

'Oh well.' John thought, 'There goes my chances on catching up with Corrie'. It had, at least, shocked Sherlock into silence for the moment though; silver lining to every cloud.

Sherlock's face was unusually expressive as the outline of a blue box thundered into the only space of their living room; his eyes lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning. When it finally landed, he jumped upright, clasping his hands together; and John could've sworn he could practically _see _the cogs whirring in his brain.

It was strange, really, how this kind of experience ceased to shock John. He wondered whether normal people would consider it strange that an alien man in a blue box could land in the middle of their living room, and the only inconvenience John could think to voice was that he didn't have enough teabags for everyone.

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at him in amusement, before knocking on the wooden blue door and waiting for their unexpected guests to enter.

Which they did; emerging in a cloud of black smoke and accompanied by the scent of burning. John ran to get a tea towel, and stood directly underneath the fire alarm, wafting away the tendrils of smoke that threatened to set the sprinklers off, not wanting to end up soaking wet as well as slightly grouchy.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

His bad mood vanished, however, when he heard the childish happiness in the Doctor's voice.

"Sherlock, and dear Dr. Watson! It's been too long!" He gave Sherlock a quick hug, before turning and engulfing John in a tight grip. John was certain that when the Doctor pulled away he would have an imprint of his jacket fabric across his cheek.

"Hello again" He smiled, turning to see Rory and Amy standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. "Rory, Amy, Nice to see you again - in normal clothes this time" He joked, and they chuckled along with him and came over for a handshake and hug respectively.

"How long exactly?" Sherlock piped up.

"What?" The Doctor looked confused, "How long what?"

"How long since you saw us last? You said it had been 'too long', it wasn't a difficult deduction that you've taken longer to reach this point than us."

"Oh, right. About, three months."

"Three months!" John interrupted incredulously, "That's… crazy!"

"Probably not for Time Travellers John." Sherlock stated.

"No. Of course not." John rolled his eyes, before heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on, mumbling under his breath the whole way, much to the amusement of the visitors; "Going crazy. Time travellers in the living room. God forbid we have a normal night in…"

"So, how long exactly have we been gone for?" Amy piped up from where she'd settled down on the sofa, glancing over at her husband who was inspecting the books on the dusty old bookcase.

"Four days."

"Oh. That's… a little strange. Miss us much?"

"Not really" Sherlock had never been one for tact anyway, "I've had a lot on."

This caught the Doctor's interest, and he poked his head back around the doorframe, from where he'd been trying to subtly inspect the rest of the flat. And failing. "A new case?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Yes"

The Doctor had been expecting this since their last visit. "Lot's of disappearances, people walking home, disappearing - maybe random people asking for help? Got any mould in here Doctor Watson?"

"There's some in the fridge" The army medic replied, before disappearing back into the sitting room, and handing out the cups of weak tea.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock called to the Doctor over the sound of the Ponds thanking John for their drinks.

"Your case." The Doctor clarified. "This isn't what I meant when I asked for mould." He complained, holding up a Petri dish full of a green growth he'd pulled from the fridge.

"My cases haven't been disappearances."

That grabbed the Doctor's attention, and his eyes flitted upwards instinctually.

"What?"

"My cases. They haven't been disappearances."

"Oh. That's odd. What have they been then?"

"Murders."

"Oh dear." The Doctor stated, almost imperceptibly glancing upwards towards the ceiling. "That's… new."

**A/N: You likey? Review and let me know if you want it continued :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This one's only small - more of an interlude really - but I found that it was a good place to cut it and have only just realised that it leaves it a bit short… I'm sure that you guys won't mind/kill me though, right? **

**Hope you all had a good Christmas (if you celebrate it), and I wish you all the best for the upcoming new year :D**

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**Disclaimer: I owned the BBC back in 1876, unfortunately, due to some unforeseen time travel errors, I'm stuck here with no ownership. **

The Doctor took one look at Sherlock's confused face, and clapped his hands together. "Right, club meeting, now!"

"Club?" John raised an eyebrow, but he moved to the living room area where everyone was congregating anyway. "What club would that be then?"

"Oh I don't know, the 'Geniuses and their Assistants' club." He improvised, waving his gangly arms above his head.

"Oi! I'm no assistant!" Amy protested from her seat in the old armchair.

"Fine. The 'Geniuses and their Companions' club then."

"I prefer the 'Companions and their Geniuses'." John winked at Amy and Rory and they chuckled conspiratorially.

"Fine. Whatever - the club name isn't important John." Sherlock interrupted, pacing in his eagerness to hear what the Doctor had to say.

"The club name is very important!" The Doctor protested.

"I want T-shirts." Rory agreed.

"And me" Amy and John nodded.

"Alright - the meeting is underway" The Doctor interrupted "All those in favour of Club t-shirts?" He raised his own hand and did a quick count of the others. "Alright then, that's four in favour, one against."

Sherlock sighed and raised his hand reluctantly. The Doctor grinned at him, "All in favour." He clapped his hands, "That's that settled then."

"Indeed. Now - you were going to say?" Sherlock prompted impatiently.

"Ahhh yes." The Doctor's face sobered up, and the others leant forward in their chairs in anticipation. "I have a few questions for you Holmes."

"Fine, is it relevant to the case?"

"Yes. Now - how many floors are in this house?"

Sherlock sighed, and leant back, "If this is just general knowledge then I could be doing something else…"

"It's important." The Doctor insisted.

"Just answer the question Sherlock." John sighed.

"Four. There's the basement, the ground floor where Mrs Hudson is, This floor, and John's room upstairs."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah. All storage space is the basement. There isn't even a loft." John said.

"Interesting."

Sherlock frowned slightly. "Why is it?"

The Doctor just nodded at the realisation dawning on Rory and Amy's faces; as they undoubtedly recalled the story he had told them about a similar case, and the looks of complete confusion on the faces of John and Sherlock.

"Follow me."

…..

It was colder outside then John had anticipated, and he briefly entertained the idea of popping back upstairs for his coat.

"No time" The Doctor whispered in his ear, and he jumped slightly, but sighed and just hugged his arms tighter around his torso in response. He didn't notice that Sherlock had edged closer to him in order to try and share body-heat when he'd noticed his discomfort.

Amy and Rory, however, had definitely seen, and stood 'awwh-ing' on the other side of the pavement.

"Right!" The Doctor coughed, "Club meeting part two is now called to order!"

"You're enjoying this too much" Amy grumbled, grinning at his injured expression.

"Shhh, Pond. Right; Sherlock. There are four floors you say?"

"Yes." He rolled his eyes disdainfully; he did hate repeating himself.

"Right." The Doctor agreed, and then went quiet, waiting for the realisation to dawn on the genius. In the end it was Doctor Watson then joined the dots the fastest.

"Wait. There's five." He glanced at the Doctor for confirmation. "I can see five floors. Why are there five floors?"The Doctor mock-frowned at him, in an experiment to see if his thoughts had already been manipulated.

"Do you not remember the fifth floor John?"John frowned in confusion, and then his face brightened up as he seemingly remembered something. "Oh yeah, of course!" he chuckled, "How could I forget? That was a bit stupid, sorry."

The Doctor glanced over at Sherlock, and saw the detective was pulling an expression that could only be described as pained.

"Sherlock?"

"There are only four floors. I know there are only four." He muttered under his breath, "I can see the other set of stairs in my mind Doctor, but I haven't ever noticed them before. I know they're not real." He looked up at the Doctor, Rory and Amy and sighed dejectedly. "They aren't real, right?"

The Doctor nodded, "Right."

John visibly shrank back into himself at the implication of the alien ideas, but shook off some discomfort when he saw Rory smiling understandingly a few yards away.

"This is like the crack in the wall all over again isn't it?" Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes.

The Doctor grinned, "Oh yes. And it's going to be dangerous. There will most definitely be danger, and aliens, and running, and danger. You in?"

John just looked at the faces of his new mad-cap friends, huddled together in the cold as they were. "Oh Doctor" He grinned, "You had me at danger."

**A/N: Thoughts? You want more/less, what? Let me know! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh my gosh. Have you all seen the new Sherlock episode? :O I'm so happy, it was epic and awesome :D But if you haven't don't worry, thar be no spoilers 'ere. **

**An Apology: Basically, I have two weeks of exams starting this Monday- oh the joy. The school have also delightfully placed two on my birthday (the Tuesday - not that any of you are particularly inetested) D: This unfortunately means that updates may not come for a while. For which I am very, very, sorry!  
><strong>**Please don't kill me? :'( **

**Disclaimer: Yes. Wait, no. Wait - what was the question? **

**Note: I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. That is all. **

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"So, explain again. Why are there five floors in 221 Baker Street, but really only four?" John frowned. It had been hard enough to accept the existence of another dimension in a box, aliens in the living room, and time travel - without having to try and understand the fact that there were quite possibly aliens sleeping above his room in his own flat.

"Perception filter." The Doctor explained, "It's a telepathic effect which misdirects your senses. It can also change your memories - to convince you it's always been there, and make you forget anything which doesn't _quite _add-up."

'You can tell that he's had to explain this to people before.' John thought tiredly. "So the fifth floor I remember…" He trailed off, gloomily.

"Is a figment of your imagination. Clever isn't it?" The Doctor grinned, like he was calmly discussing the newest model of a brand of vacuum and not some alien technology that manipulates your brain.

John just hummed in response, and stepped a tiny bit closer to his flatmate.

Sherlock, however, was practically _devouring _the new information. "How does this link to my cases?"

"Well, they're suspicious circumstances, and you can't seem to find any clues…"

"You think that someone is using this 'perception filter' to mask any clue they could have left behind?"

"Exactly."

…

The Doctor ran back up the stairs to flat 221B, pointedly ignoring the set of fake stairs on his right. It wouldn't do to let whoever was up there realise they'd been found out; at least, not quite yet.

As soon as he entered the flat, he ran straight to his Tardis and jumped in, only taking the time to grab John's coat from where it lay over the arm of his chair. Slamming the door behind him he found that the Tardis was still the worse-for-wear after their rather _hurried _landing earlier.

The corner of the console section was still dripping the orange junk he'd used to put out the flames, and there was a rather alarming amount of charcoal coloured dust coating some of the more sensitive areas of the controls. Oh well, it couldn't be _that _bad, surely.

Now, he had time to think. There was definitely something fishy going on here; something he'd missed. He swivelled the Tardis screen round to face him, and made a quick scan of the area directly around the flat, and the inside; for good measure.

_Earth, London, 221B Baker Street, 2011,  
><em>_Timelord:1 Human:2 Unknown signature: 7  
><em>_5 beings with harmful intent._

The Doctor frowned, running the fingers on his right hand through his scruffy hair. That would account for him, the timelord obviously, and there were enough for Amy, Rory, Sherlock, John, and 5 of their 'guests' upstairs.

But how were only two of them human?

He scanned the area again.

_Earth, London, 221B Baker Street, 2011,  
><em>_Timelord:1 Human:2 Unknown signature: 7  
><em>_6 beings with harmful intent. _

He was startled from his confused thoughts by a sudden banging on the Tardis door, and a very angry John Watson.

"Doctor, if you don't hurry up in there I am personally going to break down this door and drag you out! You may have forgotten but it's bloody freezing outside where we're all waiting for you! I thought we were supposed to be making 'plans-of-action' and all that, not standing on dark street corners like bloody cold drug-dealers."

That would explain the extra being 'with harmful intent' then.

"Coming!" He shouted, and opened the door to find John, shivering, on the other side - arms folded across his body. He stormed past the Doctor and over to where he could see his coat without once unfolding his arms, and the straight back out again once he had the piece of clothing in his hands.

"John!"

"What?"

"I'll give you a lift outside" The Doctor winked, leant against the doorway of the Tardis, he knew John wouldn't refuse.

However, it took John a little while longer to realise he wouldn't refuse as well.

"Fine." He eventually sighed. "But next time, be a bit quicker about it when I'm freezing my balls off."

The Doctor nodded, gently closing the door behind him, but not before sending a quick glance at the open door to the flat that John had just come through. A door he was certain had been shut a second ago.

He shook his head. He must be seeing things, probably just needed a good lie down. Or a rest. Or some tea.

…

"What's this one do then?" John asked, pointing at one of the many levers.

"It's the vortex loop control." The Doctor replied over his shoulder, somewhat distracted whilst trying to fly the Tardis outside to meet the three people waiting for them there.

John just nodded slowly. He'd seen exactly the same face on Sherlock when he was on a case and rambling off deductions. It was the face that meant he wouldn't be getting an explanation anytime soon.

"What about this one?" He asked instead, pointing at a strange shaped device sticking up out of some questionable black dust.

"That's, erm, well, that's my sonic screwdriver." The Doctor said, picking it up and blowing the dust off of it, before placing it into his jacket pocket.

"A _sonic _screwdriver? Doesn't look much like a screwdriver to me." John commented

"That's because it's more than just a 'screwdriver' John. It can do loads of cool stuff, look!" The Doctor pointed it at the consol, and a strange sound was emitted from the device. Something on the console went up in flames. Again.

But the Doctor didn't notice. He was too busy rushing over to grab John, who had screeched at the sound of the screwdriver, and was now doubled over, his hands pressed tightly against his ears.

"John, John!" The Doctor shouted, gripping John's upper arms and carefully pulling him up to face him. "Are you alright?"

John stopped screeching, but wouldn't look the Doctor in the eye, and kept his hands over his ears. He was shaking like a leaf, and the Doctor was reminded of an adventure he'd once had on Midnight, when a monster had begun to possess the tourists…

He snapped himself out if it though. Now was not the time to reminisce.

"I've stopped it now, you're all fine." He said calmly, rubbing soothing circles through John's jumper, until he removed his hands from over his ears and glanced up.

There was something in his eyes.

Only for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again. But the Doctor knew he hadn't imagined it.

A flash of purple; just bright enough to glow slightly in the gloom of the Tardis, a flash that was most definitely _not _normal. Or human for that matter.

"You ok now?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah fine." John replied, louder. "Sorry about that, dunno what got into me." He shuddered a little, but stood up straight again. Only slightly leaning on the Doctor for support, and the Doctor was sure that was probably from the phantom pain in his leg rather than anything else.

"C'mon then, they're all still waiting for us outside." The Doctor nodded, and set the Tardis to land outside, but made sure to keep an eye on the scan he'd set the Tardis to perform on it's interior.

_Status: In flight. Destination: Earth, London, Baker Street, 2011.  
><em>_Timelord: 1 Human: 0 Unknown signature: 1  
><em>_No beings of harmful intent._

…

When the Doctor and John stepped out of the Tardis a few seconds later, they were immediately pounced upon by Sherlock.

"You were gone a while. Anything happen up there?"

"No." The Doctor replied. "Just had a few problems with some fire damage, that's all." He'd had to put out the tiny fire on the console mid-flight.

Sherlock looked sceptical, but nodded. "Ok then. Amy and Rory have walked to the Chinese round the corner. Said they haven't eaten since the 16th century." He shot the Doctor a reproachful look. "I said I'd wait for you."

"Oh, right. Let's go and meet them then." The Doctor said, swinging his arms by his side, and wondering where the sudden awkward tension had come from - and why on Earth he hadn't told Sherlock about the sonic screwdriver incident. The man was obviously clever, and would probably be able to make something of it.

But then again, he didn't have all the facts of the case, did he?

…

Later on in the evening, whilst Sherlock and John were at Scotland Yard; in a meeting about the unsolvable cases (and under strict instructions _not _to mention anything alien, like perception filters), The Doctor filled Amy and Rory in on what had happened in their absence.

"So, you think that Sherlock and John are the aliens?" Rory asked, confused.

"Oh no! Course not. I just- there's something I'm missing here." The Doctor frowned, his hands in his pockets.

"I'm confused too." Amy stated. "Why would aliens choose this flat to settle above? I mean, it's a bit weird isn't it, two alien occurrences within four days… Doctor?"

The Doctor's head had snapped up at this last comment. He had the dreamy look in his eyes that meant he was thinking very hard about something. "I think you're on to something there Amy. Why would they choose to settle above Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson, indeed?"

…

"Are they still, y'know, _fictional _to the rest of the world?" Rory whispered later that evening, glancing over at Sherlock and John, chatting about the cases in the corner of the Tardis.

The Doctor sighed. "I'm not sure… I mean, they've settled in pretty well. There haven't been any government officials banging on the door and demanding birth certificates. It's like they've always been here."

"Yeah, I guess so." Rory said, "although, now I think about it, it seems a bit obvious that they've always been here." He chuckled, but it was cut short by Amy calling him from their room

"Rory! Where've you put my jumper?"He sighed, and went to help, leaving a stunned Doctor frozen behind him.

**A/N: Ooh, the plot thickens again! Who said I was going to do this the easy way? Leave a little love? (or hate, whichever way you're currently swinging) :3 **

**P.S Also, is there anyone here who objects vehemently to slash?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter was hard to write - and I'm not altogether sure I'm happy with it. I had to completely change the plot, so there's now a file on my computer full of three chapters of a plot that will never see the light of day. Oh well.  
>And my oh my, exams are tedious. Any of you lot sharing my pain right now? <strong>

**(And thanks for the birthday wishes you guys, t'was indeed enjoyable :D Apart from, y'know, **_**exams**_**.) **

**Again - no spoilers here (: **

**Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who, nor Sherlock are mine. This plot, however, **_**is**_**. And if any of you lot over at the Beeb try and steal my ideas **_**again**_**, I'm warning you… :')**

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**Off we pop!**

The Doctor was standing by the Tardis console, alone, when he felt Sherlock's breath on his neck. He swung around quickly, all flapping arms and guilt, trying his best to cover up the screen - but Sherlock (having a slight height advantage), had no problems seeing over the top of him.

"Why are you Googling us?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

The Doctor squirmed and tried in vain to block Sherlock's view. "I was just… interested?" He admitted. Well, it was part of the truth anyway.

In reality, he'd found some results that were quite worrying. There was no mention of any book characters with the name 'Sherlock Holmes', a search of 'Moriarty' rendered the page void, and a Google search of 'Arthur Conan Doyle' came up blank.

"Why? We're right here, you could ask us any question you wanted."

'Not what I need to know' The Doctor thought glumly, but on the outside he smiled, and said. "So. What did Scotland Yard have to say at that meeting then?" Even he winced at the false tone in his voice; the change of subject was so obvious it hurt.

Sherlock decided he'd let the matter go, for now. But the Doctor had been acting very strange since he'd gone to retrieve his Tardis from their flat, and Sherlock was determined to figure out why.

…..

"I have twelve missed calls from Mycroft." Sherlock announced, over a quick meal of prawn crackers and noodles in picnic fashion on the Tardis floor. There _was _a dining room, of course, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. "What about you John?"

John pulled his phone from his front pocket. "Ooh, only ten." He mused, "It would appear that he thinks this one is mainly to do with you."

"Hmm." Sherlock frowned, and glared at the screen of his mobile, as if it had betrayed him by even allowing his brother to call him.

"Mycroft?" Amy asked, "Who's he when he's at home?"

"The British government." John deadpanned over a mouthful of crunchy crisp.

"Mycroft Holmes." The Doctor said, tasting the name in his mouth. "Sherlock's older brother."

"Do you know him?" Sherlock frowned

"No way, one Holmes is quite enough for one poor Tardis, thank you!" The Doctor grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Perhaps it's about the murders." Rory stated. "We haven't seen today's newspaper, how would we know if something's happened?"

"I haven't got any calls from Lestrade…" Sherlock said, "Maybe it's nothing."

And, conveniently, (as it often is in writing), John's phone chose that exact moment to ring loudly. And Sherlock definitely _did not _jump, thank you very much.

"Hello?" John mumbled. "Oh, Lestrade." His raised his eyebrows pointedly at Sherlock. "No, nothing new yet. Yes, of course we're still looking. No we're not at home right now…" He sighed. Then suddenly, "Wait- what? Oh my God. No, we're fine. No. No, of course, on our way."

He put the phone down, and sat stubbornly staring at the plastic casing in his hands.

"John? Are you ok?" Sherlock prompted. John shook his head slowly. "What's happened?"

"Our flat-"

"What about it?"

"Caught fire."

"Oh." Amy gasped

"That's not all, is it?" The Doctor prompted, gently, a hand on John's nearest shoulder. When John raised his head again, there was a definite watery quality to his eyes. He swallowed thickly before answering quietly. "It's Mrs Hudson; she's missing."

…

Standing outside the slightly broken and burnt shell of 221B Baker Street, John Watson realised quite how much he'd grown attached to the building in such a short time. 221B had been the only constant in his life, apart from the people who inhabited it, since he'd returned from the war; and that had been invaluable.

Sherlock was having similar thoughts, although he couldn't stop the large section of his mind which was removed from such silly emotions, and was currently trying to deduce where exactly the fire had started.

Neither of them wanted to think about Mrs Hudson too much. Worrying wouldn't help - and they trusted the Doctor too much to even contemplate the possibility of him failing to find her.

When Sherlock found he couldn't find any origin of the fire, he turned to the Doctor.

"Doctor, I don't think this was an ordinary fire…"

"I agree. Where are all the clues?"

"A perception filter again?"

"I would suspect so… Which would mean-"

"Mrs Hudson."

"- probably hasn't just popped to the shops, no." He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. Muttering to himself. "think, think, think…"

Sherlock knew better than to interrupt.

Rory, it would seem, did not.

"Doctor. Doctor. Doctor!"

"Shut up Rory!" The Doctor replied, "I'm thinking!"

"No, I think you really need to see this!" Rory said desperately, and John looked over at him questioningly.

"Rory, I am really quite clever quite a lot of the time. If you interrupt me willy-nilly how am I supposed to keep thinking of brilliant ideas?" The Doctor cried, spinning around on his heels.

Rory just sighed, "Amy's found footsteps." He said, "Leading out of the remains of the fire."

The Doctor let his hands drop back to his sides, a smile forming on his lips, and called, "Well, why didn't you just say so then?" before jogging off after Rory's retreating back; Sherlock and John following soon after.

….

John crouched low over the dark scorch marks on the road, inspecting the pattern of the imprints, and the distance between each separate footprint. Across the road, Sherlock was using his magnifier to take a closer look at some rather suspect scrapes on the wall of the house next to the charcoaled street.

The Doctor was wandering aimlessly around, hands scrunched deep in his trouser pockets and a deep frown set on his forehead. The mystery was thickening, it would seem. First, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson are comfortably living in the 21st century, then aliens with perception filter technology move in above their heads, and now poor old Mrs Hudson's vanished.

Not to mention the fact that Sherlock and John aren't currently registering as human.

Just then, Rory pushed past the Doctor in his haste to get a clearer view of the footsteps, and the Doctor heard a distinct clicking noise. He looked up from the gravel below his feet, and stared at Rory.

"What was that?"

"A camera" Rory replied, proudly. "I thought we should take photographs of the evidence we have, just in case it vanishes."

The Doctor grinned broadly, "Mr Pond, you are on _fire _today!"

Rory smiled gratefully, and continued to photograph everything he thought would be useful, and some he didn't (under Sherlock's orders). When he felt satisfied he had everything from _every possible angle_, he stopped and stowed the small digital camera carefully away under his jacket. It wouldn't do to lose it; just in case it was needed later.

"Sherlock!" John called, from his position at the other end of the street, "I think this might be important!" Sherlock rose up from where he had been inspecting some of the ash left on the road, and jogged smoothly over to John, his coat billowing out behind him. "What is it?" He asked

"Well, I might be being stupid, but I'm pretty certain there shouldn't be a third footstep here." John pointed to the offending scorch mark. "The rest of the footsteps are pretty normal, well - apart from the fact they're burnt into the gravel and quite possibly made by an alien" John smiled, "But here, it's like whoever made these footsteps has an extra leg."

"But this is only here?" Sherlock asked "This one?"

"Yes. The other footprints only indicate two legs." John stated, matter-of-factly. Then, "Oh God. I'm going mad aren't I?"

Sherlock grinned dryly, "That would indicate you were sane in the first place John."

"Oi you!" John grinned, mock-slapping Sherlock's arm through The Coat (And yes, it did deserve capitalisation). "I'd never planned to be chasing down alien criminals in a time travelling blue police box."

"Neither had I"

John laughed, "Well I think it suits you, in an odd kind of way."

"And you, my dear Watson." Sherlock smiled.

John giggle-snorted, "You what?"

Sherlock shrugged, grinning, "I don't know - it just felt like the right thing to say."

"Well, that's perfectly fine, my _dear _Holmes" John replied with a cheeky wink.

They both jumped about a foot in the air when the Doctor came unexpectedly up behind them and indignantly shouted right in their ears, acompanying his loud voice with several arm-flails;

"_Will _you both _stop _flirting? I'm busy trying to find an alien and your romancing stuff is getting in my way!"

The two men shuffled further apart, blushing deeply. "We're not together" John said quickly. "like, a couple, I mean."

"I know." The Doctor replied. "Now. What do you have here…?"

John tried to resist the urge to look at Sherlock whilst the detective was busy explaining to the Doctor what it was they'd found, exactly.

When he did look up, it was to find the Doctor staring at him, a knowing look in his eyes. He couldn't help but blush again before heaving himself up and walking back over to Rory. There were some things he really wished he was better at hiding.

**As always - I'm begging for reviews :') Did you like it? Hate it? Think it was ok-ish? Let me know! **

**Oh, and thank you to all of you that have favourited/story alerted this fic, it does give me a confidence boost to know you're enjoying it :D **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello, hello, hello! I bring you the gift of a shiny new chapter! And as this is chapter 5, I can confirm that this story will definitely be longer than it's prequel. (:**

**Also - Happy Valentine's Day for a few days ago my favourite people! :D Will't thou be mine? X3**

**Disclaimer: I did not receive the BBC for Valentine's Day like I was hoping to. So, I'm afraid, I still have no ownership. **

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**Chalcedony Rivers: Ahahaa! Just when you think you've got the slash all figured out… I joke. That would be quite a twist though! XD (Resist the urge to sing the 'twisty' crimp. **_**Resisttt**_**.)**

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It was the timely arrival of Lestrade that finally snapped John out of his half-panicked, half-relieved trance. The Detective Inspector stormed down the street, looking as though he was already severely pissed off. When he noticed the footprints, he turned and bellowed for an equally irate Sergeant Donovan.

He did a double take when he finally noticed the three strangers also wandering around the area.

"Oi!" He shouted down the length of the alley, "This is a crime scene, now bugger off unless you happen to either A) be responsible, or B) be a bloody _policeman_."

The Doctor looked sideways at Sherlock, and the taller man leant over and whispered "Detective Inspector Lestrade - he's the best of a bad lot, _do _try not to get on his bad side." The Doctor nodded seriously, and then jogged over to where Lestrade was currently interrogating a helpless and stuttering Rory and Amy.

"Ahh, Lestrade!" The Doctor shouted happily, "Nice to meet you." He said, kissing the air either side of his cheeks. Amy tried her absolute hardest _not _to laugh. (She failed.)

"Who the hell are you?" Lestrade questioned, "Is this some kind of joke? Sherlock! It's bad enough you bring John along, I can't allow you to just have _normal _civilians wandering around my crime scenes!"

The Doctor smiled and held up a piece of blank paper in a black leather wallet. Lestrade seemed to pale after reading it. "Oh, I'm so sorry" He stammered, backtracking, "I didn't realise."

"That's fine!" The Doctor announced, spinning around on his heels and walking back down to where there was a problem with the footprints. "You don't happen to have a spare evidence bag do you?"

"Here" Lestrade said, jogging after him and handing the Doctor the small clear bag. "Can I just ask - why is Cardiff interested in this?"

"What?" The Doctor asked, stopping on his way over to Sherlock, "What about Cardiff?"

John mused that he looked genuinely worried, and had actually paled significantly.

Lestrade frowned. "Well, that's where your ID said you're _from_, Superintendent."

"Oh, right. Of course - yes." The Doctor mumbled. "They aren't interested really, but I am, so I thought I'd pop along and help you out." He continued, bending down and filling the evidence bag with some of the strange ash-like substance the footprints were made up of.

"Right…" Lestrade said, clearly disbelieving. He shot John a questioning look, but the shorter man just shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Got anything useful so far?" He asked, glancing to where Sherlock was still crouched down at the other end of the street.

"What?" The Doctor asked, straightening up. When he followed Lestrade's gaze he gave a little start and moved to block the DI's view.

"Nope. Nothing." He said quickly. A bit _too _quickly if Lestrade was honest. The Doctor continued haphazardly, "Nothing at all. Well, apart from the footprints. Who'd have thought it eh? Footprints as the only clue, a bit old fashioned! Haha! Where are you going?" He called, after the retreating back of the DI, voice increasingly high-pitched and panicked, "You can't go down there! Sherlock!"

"I can go wherever I like" Lestrade grumbled, stalking over to the detective. "It's my bloody case."

Sherlock looked slowly up at the approaching Inspector from his crouching position. "Ahh Lestrade" He greeted. "I see you've met the Doctor."

"Who? You mean that John Smith bloke?"Sherlock raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"Who the bloody hell does he think he is anyway?" Lestrade was ranting, "Just turning up and storming around my crime scene like he owns the place. Bet he's just here to cause trouble, get his name in the papers, or something." "I doubt that." Sherlock snorted, standing up. Then slowly and carefully scrubbed out the extra ash footstep at his feet. Lestrade was too busy ranting to notice. When he'd run out of insults, and breath, he looked down at the footsteps. Only two of them now.

"What've you got then?"

"I have a few ideas. But I'll need to get to the lab to fully test them." Sherlock said, straightening up and dusting off his hands. "I'll get back to you as soon as I have something that may be of use." Lestrade sighed, but nodded.

"Fine. But for God's sake…" He stopped, lowering his voice to a whisper, " don't bring that infuriating man with you again." He pointed to where the Doctor was measuring the distance between the footsteps by leaping between them; like some bizarre game of hopscotch.

Sherlock smiled slowly. "Fine."

…..

Back in the Tardis, The Doctor was busy feeding the ash into a tube that had risen out of the console. Rory and Amy were inspecting the photographs in a corner, and Sherlock and John were on speakerphone to Mycroft.

"Hello brother dear." Sherlock paused for a reply. "What gave you that impression? Can I not ring my own brother for a chat without wanting something?" John snickered at the buzzing that came from the phone. "Fair point." Sherlock conceded. "I was wondering if you could have the CCTV files for Baker Street last night sent over?"

"Please." John added, and Sherlock grimaced. There was a bit more noise from the phone, and then John nodded. "Thank you. We owe you one." Then the line went dead.

"What did you say that for?" Sherlock said, flinging his arms in the air. "Now he'll actually expect something from us!"

"Well, he _has _done us a massive favour Sherlock. And he's your brother - it shouldn't be such a hateful idea to help him with something."

"But he'll give us a boring case that'll take weeks to solve!"

"After all this I think I could do with a bit of boring normality, thanks." John sighed.

Sherlock inspected his face for a long moment before announcing; "We'll go on holiday."

John barked out a laugh. "Us? On holiday? Ha! You'd be bored within two minutes."

"We've been away before." Sherlock said, pouting.

"Yeah, but always for a case. Dartmoor doesn't count Sherlock. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing." John pointed out, folding his arms. "And somehow, I just can't imagine you sunbathing in swimming trunks." Amy laughed from the other corner, and Sherlock scowled.

"Oh come on, you can see my point." John grinned, arms out in a placated gesture. Sherlock seemed to be floundering for a response, something John was sure he'd never see again, before just giving up and sticking his tongue out at the shorter man before stalking away to quiz the Doctor.

"John!" Amy called, "Come and see your face in this photograph!"

"Oh God." John said, "I'm not sure I want to. I never photograph well, you should have seen the school photos…"

…..

"You never told me you worked with Cardiff." Sherlock frowned, from behind the Doctor where he had snuck up quietly.

"What?" The Doctor jumped, "I don't." He narrowed his eyes, and gazed at Sherlock challengingly, "What makes you ask that?"

"Your ID says you do." Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh" The Doctor sighed, and all the tension seemed to flood from his shoulders, until he got the gangly ten year old that Sherlock had started to associate him with. " Now this, this is really clever." The Doctor smiled, fishing his black wallet out of his inner jacket pocket. "Watch this. I am an ice-cream man!" He shouted, and in the corner, Rory jumped.

When the Doctor showed Sherlock the ID card, the detective gasped. "How does it work?"

"Psychic paper." The Doctor said, proudly. "It knows what people are expecting, or want, to see, and then gives me the right ID for the job."

"So, that could say anything?" Sherlock sounded impressed.

"Of course! Well, nearly anything. I did once have a problem with it when I was trying to baby-sit. But apart from that, it works a charm." He smiled, placed the wallet back in his jacket, walked off again to read the results of the tests on the ash, and missed Sherlock's frankly _mischievous _grin.

…..

The Doctor studied the test results he'd got from the ash again; there would be no point in worrying everyone unnecessarily.

But unfortunately they remained the same.

_Results:  
><em>_Unknown signature.  
><em>_Seen before: In Tardis. Year 2011.  
><em>_Scanning… Please Wait…  
><em>_Two species of signature on board.  
><em>_Tardis Status: Stationary._

The ash footprints, would appear to have been made… by Sherlock and John?

…..

Mrs Hudson glanced around the cold, grey room in confusion - 221C, she was sure. Well, she recognised the damp. How strange - she could've sworn she'd been stood in her kitchen only moments before… But that was just plain silly. No one could just disappear from one place and end up in another - that wasn't how the world worked.

Mind you, when you live with Sherlock Holmes, the world begins to seem a lot less safe and predictable than you first thought.

A shadow across the bare wall alerted Mrs Hudson to a presence in the doorway, and she spun around to find Sherlock leant on the doorframe, eyes closed, arms folded, and looking for all the world as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation.

"Sherlock?", Mrs Hudson asked, hesitantly. "What on Earth is going on?" #

Something - call it instinct - told her that she should proceed carefully, and so she refrained from bustling past him as she would normally. The cold was getting to her a bit; she should've brought a cardigan or something. She sighed, rubbing her hands over her bare arms.

She stopped worrying about the temperature when Sherlock opened his eyes, and turned to smile at her.

His _purple _eyes.

"Now Mrs Hudson" he laughed, slowly, agonisingly, "Tell me about yourself."

**A/N: I love all of you who have added this to their favourites/story alerts, and I love all of you who have reviewed. Please continue to do so my lovely peeps! (: X3 **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: You would not believe the amount of work I have to do. I am hammering out this Author's note whilst simultaneously attempting to learn French verbs. It's rather ridiculously impossible to do either of them well. **

**Disclaimer: Non. Je ne possède pas ces caractères**

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**SH: Glad you think so, Sherlock dear. **

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**Onwards and upwards my friends… **

Mrs Hudson hadn't moved two inches since Sherlock had left the room, frowning over her lack of compliance, his purple eyes still gleaming from the expressionless expanse of his face. He'd left in a hurry, all patience suddenly disappearing, along with mutterings of 'John' and 'Timelines'. She didn't pretend to understand, or even care all too much.

She could hear his muffled voice at first, through the locked door, coming from the hallway - John's too. They sounded stressed, worried even.

The cold was back again now, forcing her worries to the forefront of her mind. Was John ok? What was wrong with Sherlock? He wasn't back on drugs again was he?

Why did she feel like the impossible was happening on her own doorstep?

…..

The Doctor looked around the Tardis slowly, neck craning, never once moving his body away from the console. The worrying readings on the screen stayed exactly where they were - flashing menacingly whenever they came across any turbulence. Sherlock and John had been dropped off to check-in with Scotland Yard, leaving only the himself and the Ponds.

"Doctor" Rory asked, appearing from the doorway to one of the bedrooms. "Where exactly are we going anyway?"

The Doctor shook his head dazedly, "Nowhere, nothing." he muttered, not really paying attention.

"So we're just sort of… drifting?" Rory frowned. "That doesn't sound like you. You always have a plan, or somewhere to save, or an old friend to visit-"

The Doctor seemed to snap out of whatever daydream he was having, and turned to Rory with a reproachful expression. "What? Oh come on, Rory. I never just drift… you should know that by now" he smiled, straightening up.

"So - you have a plan then?"

"Of course I do! Do I look like the kind of person that wouldn't have plans?"

"Well…"

"Think your next words through carefully, Pond."

Rory grinned. "Ha. No, of course not. Not once have you ever just muddled your way through a situation." he ground out sarcastically.

"Correct answer." The Doctor grinned, turning the screen off and flinging himself down onto one of the Tardis' seats.

"So, you going to tell me what's going on then?"

The Doctor leant forwards, "I'm going to need your help."

Rory smiled back, "Is that so?"

"I require brains, charms, bravery, good looks… and a bloke called Rory." The Doctor winked, dodging the mock punch Rory sent his way. "Right, in all seriousness, we need your wife. This is going to take more than a little bit of acting."

….

Amy frowned. "I don't understand."

"They're not human." The Doctor replied, pausing after every word, giving them time to sink in. "Well, these ones aren't anyway."

"_These ones_?" Rory repeated.

"Well, yes. A modern day Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, they aren't the ones from the books are they? Of course not, books can't come to life, except from when they can. But this isn't one of those times. Anyway! We've now got two aliens masquerading around London, and living in 221B Baker Street."

"And committing murders." Amy pointed out.

"And arson." Rory added. "Quite possibly kidnapping too."

There was a silence as the three of them contemplated the conversation, before they simultaneously broke out into noises of dismissal.

"No way!"

"That can't be right, not those two!"

"I'm missing something, something _big_."

The Tardis fell back into silence as three brains whirred madly; admittedly some faster than others.

….

Lestrade sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead, as if he were trying to smooth out the worry-lines that had permanently taken up root there. "We're doing all we can." He told the two men in front of him. "But it's like all the clues have just… gone. Our forensics tests haven't turned up anything about the ash, and we can't seem to find any other traces around the place. I'm afraid your flat has been… quite badly damaged, as has Mrs. Hudson's. The basic structure of the building is fine though…"

"It's alright." John smiled tiredly back at him. "We're trying our best too, we understand. Don't we Sherlock?"

Sherlock sniffed, wandering away to read the write-up of the evidence found at Baker Street. "Hmm." He nodded in vague agreement.

"We've got some tests of our own currently in operation on the ash. If we find anything we'll be sure to let you know." John promised.

Lestrade turned back to him, "Thanks mate. I take it you found somewhere to stay, then? Sorry I didn't check up on you, it's been hectic as hell round here."

"Oh, don't worry about us." John smiled, "We're just fine."

Their mundane conversation was interrupted when Sherlock gasped loudly from the corner, and snatched one of the pages from the report from the staple. "John!"

"What is it?" John asked, walking over, "What've you found?"

Sherlock grinned, "A mistake."

"A mistake?" Lestrade frowned. "Sherlock, now is _really _not the time to be spell-checking the reports."

Sherlock ignored him. "Someone hasn't covered their tracks very well." he pointed out, gleefully.

John sighed, looking at Lestrade and seeing he was just as confused "Sherlock, you need to explain."

Sherlock looked mildly put-out by John's calming voice. "Really? Oh come on, it's obvious!" The two blank stares facing him illustrated just how much they thought _wasn't _obvious, at all. "Look here" Sherlock held out the report for them, reading out the section he had found fault with. "The arrival of one Superintendent John Smith from Cardiff, as well as two assistants, meant that evidence was collected quickly and easily. There were no sighting of a suspicious kind. No further clues have been found up to the current date on this report. I can state that to the best of my knowledge no evidence was taken without consent blah, blah, blah." He trailed off. "But come _on_, 'Superintendent John Smith from Cardiff', 'two assistants'?"

"Well, that was the man who turned up to help." Lestrade frowned, "You were there, I saw his ID."

"Yes, but did you write the report?"

"Well, no." He laughed, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"And who did you tell about 'John Smith'? Who else was there to see the others? We left before the rest of your team turned up."

"No one, of course. He was barely there - and if I'm honest Sherlock things have been too busy to check up with Cardiff. Why, do you think he was the arsonist?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course not. The point I'm trying to make is that _someone_ wrote the report who knew more about it than they should have."

Lestrade gave him a very odd look, before opening his mouth and dropping the bombshell. "But I don't understand - _you _wrote it, Sherlock."

There was a moments silence whilst the three of them stood in mutual confusion.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, slowly. "I didn't write anything."

"Sherlock, you came in and wrote this only hours after you swept away." Lestrade turned to John for back-up, but found no reassurance in his gaze. "Oh come on, I'm not falling for this one."

"It's true." John stated, "This is the first time I've seen you since the crime scene."

Lestrade looked unconvinced, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well you weren't there for the statement-writing." He pointed out, turning back to Sherlock. "You brought in some CCTV of your flat as well." He held up a tape from the top of his messy desk. "Said your brother had dropped it round at the flat."

John turned to Sherlock, "I knew we'd forgotten something!" He sighed, exasperated. "That would have been useful."

Sherlock didn't reply, instead choosing to bring his hands up under his chin and block out the sounds of the men in the room. This did not make sense. He hadn't written any reports, he'd been with the Doctor the whole time they were away. Someone else had picked up the CCTV footage, brought it to Scotland Yard pretending to be him, and whilst there, written his statement. Somehow all whilst maintaining the façade of being him… Impossible, surely?

Greg interrupted his thoughts with a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Look Sherlock, I know you're under a lot of stress at the moment, but I really think you should just stop for a bit, ok? Get some sleep, take a break-"

"I don't need a break!" Sherlock shouted over him. "Now shut up, I'm trying to think!"

"Sherlock." John hissed, reproachfully. He turned back to Lestrade, "Sorry Greg, I hadn't realised he was this tired… I'll take him home."

Lestrade just nodded, thankful to have the problem and added stress removed from his life. He had far too many things to be worrying about before he could spare the time to panic about Sherlock Holmes' mental health. John left with Sherlock's arm gripped in his, nodding his goodbyes as they passed through the door. Once outside in the cool air he spun around to face the lanky detective, the small crease between his eyebrows showing his nervousness. Sherlock hadn't responded; he stood still, eyes focused on something in the distance, and John knew not to disturb him.

….

The Doctor handed Rory another book. "A Sandal in Bohemia" He read aloud. "I remember reading this one as a kid. Had a bit of a crush on that Adler woman."

"Well, get reading." The Doctor ordered, over his own copy of 'A Study in Scarlet' "We must be missing something."

"How did you even get these anyway?" Amy asked, eyes never leaving the pages, "I thought they didn't exist here."

"They don't." The Doctor replied. "But the Tardis is holding them in space, anything can exist out there. Probably does." He smiled ruefully.

"What do you mean, 'in space'?" Rory asked, giving the book a fearful glance.

The Doctor sighed, turning the page with the resigned air of a schoolboy who knew the only thing that was to come was failure. "We only feel like we're holding them. Really, the particles are being held in a kind of temporal loop; they exist only inside the Tardis, and wherever it is she's decided to hold base - probably Mars."

"Oh. Right. Okay then." Rory nodded, shooting Amy a questioning glance. She just shrugged.

There was a blissful silence for a few minutes, whilst they all scanned the pages with a ferocious intensity. "A-ha!" The Doctor shouted, gleefully. "Here. This is it, staring us in the face!"

"What?" Amy raised an eyebrow.

"The very beginning of it all… _how did they meet_?" The Doctor smiled, "We never even asked."

"Why does it matter?" Amy frowned

"Oh, it matters alright." The Doctor shook his head, "Matters quite a lot. This book -" He paused, chucking it to Amy, "Is where they must have come from. Correct?"

Rory nodded. "And how does it start?"

Amy frowned, "With the two of them being introduced, right?"

"Exactly." The Doctor nodded, waving his arms around to illustrate his points. "So the question is, where does the story begin?"

Amy nodded, catching on, "And where does real life stop?"

"Exactly" The Doctor nodded, "Did they just come out of nowhere?"

Rory grinned. "How much are we betting that somewhere there's a 'Stamford'?"

"I don't know about betting." The Doctor stood up, still looking smug, "But I think we should pay him a visit."

"Ooh, can I say it?" Amy cried, standing up and following the Doctor to the console excitedly.

He sighed, "Fine"

"Geronimo!"

….

Mike Stamford had been having a normal day. He got up a little too late, ran around the kitchen trying to simultaneously pull his socks on and brush his teeth, and left for the bus stop with a piece of dry, burnt, toast in hand.

His day had taken a rather sudden turn towards the extraordinary when he finally made it to the bus stop, ruddy faced and more than a little out of breath. Instead of finding the bus stop as he did every morning; yellow and green, and empty, he found it obscured by a large blue box. A police box.

It got even stranger when a strangely dressed man stepped out of it, holding aloft a collection of rubbish that appeared to be held together with parcel tape and will-power.

"Hello!" The stranger greeted him, smiling widely and giving him a flash of brilliantly white teeth.

"Yes, morning." Mike replied, nodding in return. His mother had always taught him to be polite, even when dealing with people he'd rather not have to. _Especially _when dealing with those.

"You're Stamford I take it?"

"What?" He frowned, swallowing around the chunk of dry bread in his mouth. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "I'm Sherlock Holmes' friend." he explained, waving the odd machine around Mike's head. "And you, Mr Stamford…" he stopped, studying the flashing lights on the box, "…are not human."

**Another A/N: The mystery unravels (a little) :P **

**Next chapter there will be more explaining, I promise. For now, relish the chance to be Sherlock Holmes yourself, and tell me when you have it all worked out (:**

**Reviews would be lovely. As would any other form of communication. (I hear it's sometimes nice for hermits like me to talk to people. Huh. Who knew?)**

_(Also - any of you lot nerdy/amazing enough to have a Pottermore account? I'm all lonely on mine! *chokes on un-subtleness of hints*) _


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: If anyone is still here - I love you. There is no way I can properly apologise for this wait. I feel like a bad human-being - but if you want to kill anyone, I suggest you kill the exam boards. They're the ones who have been keeping me locked in a perpetual state of revision for the past month and a bit :'( **

**Seriously though, I leave for a bit, and when I come back everything's different? What is this 'cover' I now need? Why is everything so confusing and new? Help! :') **

**Disclaimer: Yeah, that's what I was doing while I was gone. I wasn't revising at all, I was sealing the deal with the BBC. That's right - you're now looking at the new owner of Sherlock and Doctor Who. (Not really.)**

**Review replies: **

**SeddieShortBus - I can sympathise with the exam feelings, I hope they're all over and done with now? (: Thank you very much, you're too kind! Here you are, have some more :3  
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**Companions and their geniuses are goooo! **

"I'm sorry, I don't think you're making much sense." Mike Stamford apologised politely, trying to hide his increased levels of worry in the face of this apparent madman. The madman and his big blue box.

The madman, or 'The Doctor' as he'd called himself, stepped closer, strange whirring device still outstretched in his hand. "Nope." He smiled happily. "You're definitely not human. In fact" He prodded the box-like object in his hand, and it gave off a loud squeak. "You're about as human as I am."

Mike stared, then stared a bit more. The man in front of him didn't seem to disappear as he half expected him to, nor did the conversation make any more sense in his head. "I'm sorry…" He tried again, speaking more slowly in case the man was a danger. "I don't think you have the right man."

The Doctor frowned, "Of course I do! You're Mike Stamford aren't you? Old school friend of Doctor John Watson, sort-of friend to Sherlock Holmes, you set them up a meeting to discuss a flat share…"

There was silence for a moment, then; "Are you a policeman?"

This elicited a laugh from the man in front of him. "'Fraid not." he chuckled. "Now if you'd just step this way..?" And he turned and walked into the police box, gesturing for Mike to follow him.

And Stamford, in all his confusion, did.

….

John jogged a little, attempting to keep up with Sherlock as he strode through the busy streets around New Scotland Yard. He hadn't uttered a word since they'd spoken with Lestrade, though now he seemed to have realised something, and John had known him long enough to understand that when Sherlock Holmes went for a wander through London, it was best if he followed.

After another ten minutes of furious speed-walking, Sherlock eventually stopped outside what John recognised as the café they'd sat in not too long ago. Sherlock swept inside, selected a table, and let John deal with the flustered waitress.

When his tea had arrived, John took a measured sip before allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. "Right. What is going on, Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Sherlock." He hissed, trying not to draw any further attention to their little table by the window. "What is going on? With us I mean. Why have we forgotten going to see Lestrade?"

Sherlock looked up at that, a frown creasing the area between his eyebrows. "Forgotten? We haven't forgotten anything John, we just weren't there."

John took another sip, letting the sweet brew linger on his tongue a little before swallowing and continuing calmly. "How could we not have been there? Lestrade said it was us, he wouldn't have just mistaken someone else and let them in, I mean - it is Scotland Yard for crying out loud!"

"But what if they looked like us?"

That threw him a little. "What? If they disguised themselves you mean?"

"No. What if they _really _looked like us John? Come on, people living above our flat? They'd have the perfect opportunity to watch us and practice our behaviour."

"But the Doctor said that it was aliens on the floor above."

"Yes." Sherlock frowned, "Obviously. No one else would be able to look like us and convince someone we've known for so long."

"Wait, I'm confused." John ran a hand through his hair, it was getting longer now, he'd need a cut soon. "Are you saying that there are aliens in the flat, aliens that look like us, _masquerading _as us throughout London?"

Sherlock's eyes gleamed, and he stood up abruptly. "Yes John, that's exactly what I'm saying."

He left without another look, and John regretfully abandoned his tea to follow him out the door, throwing down some money for their waitress. Aliens on the loose or not, some things never change; and it would seem he never would be able to finish what he'd ordered with Sherlock around.

….

Mike had had to take a seat upon entering the Tardis for the first time. He'd been sat, clutching his dry toast, and muttering "But it doesn't make sense!" for the past ten minutes.

"Doctor" Rory appeared behind the gangly man's shoulder. "I think you've broken him."

"Rubbish. He's a scientist, he'll work it out in a minute."

"He's been here for ten." Amy pointed out, walking over his a hand on her hip. "I don't think you should just _leave _him there."

"Yeah, what if he hurts himself?" Rory asked, a little concern on his features.

"With a piece of toast?" The Doctor replied, disbelieving. He shoved Amy over anyway, whispering at her to be 'reassuring'. Right. Like that was going to work.

Amy knelt down in front of the bewildered man who had, (thank God), stopped with the deranged whispering. "Mr Stamford?" She tried, "Are you alright?"

He glanced down at her, cleared his throat, and nodded. "Erm, hello." He smiled shakily. "Sorry to bother you, but where exactly am I? And who are you?"

Amy turned back to the Doctor angrily, "You didn't explain yourself?" She hissed, "No wonder he's confused!" The Doctor had enough grace to look sheepish.

"I'm Amy Pond, that's my husband, and the scrawny one is the Doctor. This is the Tardis." She smiled in what she hoped seemed a calming way. "It's nothing to worry about, all plausible and science-y. We just need to talk to you for a bit."

He nodded slowly, seemingly having decided to just go with the flow for the time being. "Right. Okay."

"Well, that wasn't so hard was it?" The Doctor grinned, coming over and holding out his hand. He didn't seem to notice Mike didn't take it. "Now, what can you tell us about Mr. Holmes?"

Mike frowned. "Sherlock? He's a colleague. Well, I say colleague, I'm not actually sure what it is he does at the hospital. He works with the police mostly, from what I can gather from reading John's blog. He's a bit obnoxious, but he likes me well enough I suppose."

The Doctor nodded. "How did you meet?"

Mike seemed thrown. "Meet?" He asked.

"Yes, how did you first meet this delightfully obnoxious man?"

"Well, I… I suppose it was probably through work…" He stopped again. "I can't quite remember."

"How long ago was it?"

"Oh, a couple of hundred years by now, I would guess."

"Oh?" The Doctor schooled his face into gentle curiosity. Amy and Rory were not so subtle. "And John?"

"About the same for him too, I would think. Though probably a bit earlier, we studied together."

"How old are you Mr Stamford?"

Mike looked thrown by the change in subject. "I'm forty-eight." He replied, eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry, but what does that have to do wit-"

"I was only wondering" The Doctor began, and Amy and Rory felt the success in his tone. "How you could possibly have known these men for a few hundred years if you yourself are only forty-eight?"

There was a tense silence, in which the Doctor didn't move, and Mike's face flashed through a hundred different emotions, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish. Then, eventually, he spoke.

"I remember now." He whispered, and his voice had changed slightly, he sounded older than he had before, more shaky, and his eyes flashed a curious purple colour. "It was because of the books."

The Doctor looked triumphant.

…..

Sherlock only stopped jogging when he had reached the alleyway the Tardis had been parked in when they'd left. The _empty _alleyway.

"Where are they?" He muttered, flustered. "They wouldn't just go for no reason…"

"Maybe they've come to the same conclusion?" John asked, doubled over and taking slow breaths through his nose. All this sudden running had taken it out of him. "Gone to investigate?"

Sherlock frowned. "They wouldn't do anything that drastic without coming to us first. They'd have realised that it revolves around us, all of this, and they would have needed us to solve it completely."

"Baker Street?"

"Possible" Sherlock nodded. "Perhaps they've gone to find us."

"Plan of action?" John asked, shaking out the fatigue in his legs.

"We meet them there." Sherlock nodded, before heading out onto the busy street again, John prepared to run after him, but stopped when he saw the detective hailing a taxi.

"Get in." Sherlock muttered, holding the door for him. "Don't assume I can't tell when you're tired John."

John didn't know how to reply, so he opted for just settling on the bumpy leather with a sigh of relief, and smiling.

…

When Mike had gathered his thoughts enough to continue, and the Doctor had grabbed a swivel chair from a closet the Ponds hadn't even known the existence of, he began to explain himself.

"So." The Doctor started, "You aren't human."

"Of course not." Mike looked offended. "I'm an Evophantom, of course." Amy and Rory looked nonplussed, but the Doctor had gasped in recognition.

"You know them?" Amy asked.

The Doctor nodded, "Of course. Quite a friendly bunch; like your version of a shape shifter I suppose. They're advanced, but I hadn't realised they'd quite managed space travel beyond their own galaxy yet."

Mike looked smug. "We were the 116th crew sent out." He added, puffing up his chest a little.

"What? How many of you are there?" The Doctor asked, "How did I miss this?"

"There were seven of us. At first." He explained. "Of course, after people heard where it was we had come to, they wanted to see for themselves."

"To see Earth?"

"No, to see Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson." Mike looked at the confused three faces around him and started to explain. "Right, well. I suppose you know about Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson?" He received three answering nods. "Good, that'll cut quite a bit out of the explanation then. Well, basically, these books were written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; wonderful man. Unfortunately, he eventually got bored of his little creation, and decided to off him."

"The Reichenbach Fall." Amy nodded.

"Well, yes. Formerly called 'The Final Problem,' but yes. The thing is, Sherlock Holmes is very popular back at home, and many people didn't take too kindly to the idea that the books had finished…" He trailed off, looking a little guilty, "So we used some new technology and came to sort things out."

"You mean you jumped galaxies and started your own living characters of the books." The Doctor raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Yes." Mike nodded. "We purged the Earth of the books first though, it wouldn't do to have plot-holes, and made some necessary adaptations so they'd fit in here-"

"I'm confused" Rory announced, not to anyone's great surprise. "Start from the beginning. The Sherlock Holmes and John Watson on Earth are actually you guys pretending to be the characters so you can read about more adventures?"

Mike scrubbed a hand across his forehead, as if trying to wipe away the worry-lines there. "Not- not exactly." He stammered. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are themselves, we just guide them through it all. We weren't going to interfere too much… that was the plan anyway. But all good plans have a few hitches, right?" He smiled weakly.

The Doctor did not look impressed.

…..

221B was still cordoned off when they arrived, but the few police still there waved them through without any hassle. John tried not to be affected by the scorch marks on the walls, and when they opened the door, the lack of personal belongings cluttering every available surface. Anything that wasn't too badly damaged had been stored away, and the rest were listed on insurance forms. Sherlock did not seem too bothered by all this.

"They aren't here." He pointed out needlessly, spinning round to poke his head into the empty kitchen. "No one's been in here for days."

"Yeah, well. We've been busy." John pointed out, lifting one of the scorched armchairs and revealing a clean patch of carpet underneath.

Sherlock nodded. "We should leave."

A banging noise from above them had them both craning their heads. "My room?" John asked, eyebrow raised.

"Or our guests." Sherlock finished, already heading towards the stairs up to John's sparse room, disregarding the sign that indicated the stairs were unstable and not fit for use. When he flung the door open, however, he was met with an empty room. There was nothing that could have fallen to the floor, and no open windows that could have slammed shut…

"Upstairs then." John sighed. "I should've known."

"What do you mean?"

"Things are never this easy with you."

…

"Wait a minute." Amy pouted. "If you're some 'evophantom', how come you didn't remember until we practically pointed it out to you?"

Mike opened his mouth to answer at the same time the Doctor said "Perception filter. You don't even realise something's not there, or _is _there, until you're shown it. Like memories… or a room."

Mike nodded. "Security detail. There was a breach in our plan, so the program was terminated until we can solve it. I was sent to watch out for everything of course, so I couldn't be left to remember it all. That would have most likely made things worse."

"Sent to watch out for what? What breach?"

"For Sherlock and Dr Watson of course." He looked at their confused faces, and settled down to explain, waving his arms about in the manner of a primary school teacher trying to teach a class of easily-distracted children. "Someone had to be based on Earth with them, to make sure that what they did wasn't too strange, or that nothing unprecedented happened. Except, something did, and the program was temporarily terminated." he huffed out a breath, "Which meant that I was left to watch-over everything in a petty, human way."

Rory looked mildly affronted. Amy looked murderous. "We've done a damn sight better than you, trying to figure it all out!" She pointed out, "What's this breach then?"

"There were… visitors." Mike explained, looking up to the Doctor for support. "Some of the people back at home obviously got bored of waiting for the next adventure-"

"Or maybe they wanted to test the great detecting duo themselves." The Doctor added.

"Exactly" Mike nodded. "So they've interfered. They're creating problems everywhere, and lets not mention how much they've mucked-up the timeline…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Until we can find them, we've been covering their tracks with perception filters, no one will notice a thing is wrong. We haven't been able to find them yet, but I have confidence we'll stop them before anything _too _bad happens."

"221B burnt down. Mrs Hudson's missing." Rory stated, eyes flashing. "That's a _bit _'bad' don't you think?"

Mike had the decency to look guilty. "They won't have done anything to her. I'm sure they're just trying to 'test' Sherlock and John, like your friend said."

"Why wouldn't anyone have noticed them?"

"Evophantom, remember?" The Doctor sighed. "They've disguised themselves as Sherlock and John."

There was a short silence as everyone tried to take the information in. Mike looked like he was itching to write it all down. Then, Amy scowled. "How long have you known something like this was up?" she demanded, pointing one sharp finger at the Doctor.

"Since their eyes turned a funny colour in the Tardis." He admitted.

"And you didn't think to tell us?" She cried, rounding on him.

"I didn't want to worry you!" The Doctor held up his hands in surrender, looking to Rory for help.

Rory decided he should probably intervene before one of them decided to dramatically storm off, or dramatically murder the other, (that last one would probably be Amy). "Right. Well. We should probably go and find them, don't you think?"

**A/N: Again, I'm so, so sorry for the wait. Don't worry, I'm definitely going to finish this. I have it all planned out and everything - promise (: Can you give me a shout about your thoughts on this chapter? Any of you even still here? D:**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Right, okay. This is probably the longest chapter yet because there was such a lot to fit in, and no opportune moment to cut it short. Lots of explanations for the madness here! Roll up, roll up! **

**It is also the last chapter. I know, I'm genuinely sad that this one is finished. This verse is such fun to write, and I've had such a brilliant, unexpected, response to it - I will miss talking to you guys! D: Always feel free to drop me a PM!**

**In happier news: OH MY GOSH NEW DOCTOR WHO TRAILER ASDJKSLDSQ88QGDWQI!**

**Disclaimer: You don't need to be Sherlock to deduce this one guys; the question of my ownership is the opposite of 'Yes, I do own it.' (More's the pity.)**

**Warnings: One swear word. Sorry about that, John got cross :') **

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**(For old time's sake…)**

**Geronimo! **

John stood behind Sherlock in the hallway of 221 Baker Street, frowning and resisting the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief like they do in all the old movies. "The stairs were _right here_." He pointed at a blank wall. "We saw them, then we pretended _not _to see them, and now we want to find them they've just gone? They can't have actually vanished, surely?"

Sherlock sighed in frustration, "No, they're still here, just… hidden more effectively." He moved to run a few long fingers along the wall, watching for any dips in the seemingly smooth surface that would indicate a disguised entrance. Nothing.

"Should we get the Doctor?" John asked from his position opposite where he could remember the staircase being. "Maybe he could help."

"Probably" Sherlock muttered, now tapping at his phone keypad.

"So we're going to get the Doctor?"

"Don't be ridiculous John." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "We're going up the stairs." And with that, he threw his phone at the wall.

Not quite as high-tech as John had hoped for, but it got the job done. He'd long since given up trying to predict Sherlock's behaviour.

Either way, it would seem that even alien technology can't fool your brain about the whereabouts of a wall when you witness a phone passing through it like a ghost and bouncing harmlessly off a previously hidden staircase. John grinned, "After you."

…..

Amy and Rory crowded around the Doctor, who was busy tapping buttons and levers on the console, before shouting "A-ha!" when the correct file appeared on the screen in front of him.

"Evophantom-" He grinned, reading through it quickly, "are brilliant."

Amy waited a few minutes to see if he was going to expand on his statement before asking the question that had been bugging her. "What do they actually look like? I mean, you said they're shape-shifters, so I'm going to hazard a guess that they don't look like that-" she gestured towards Mike, "all the time."

The Doctor spun the screen round to face her, which was currently showing a file headed 'Evophantom' with a picture of a strange creature and what looked to be a short list of credentials - rather like a Top Trumps card.

The Evophantom in the picture was quite short, dumpy, and with skin the startling colour of blue usually only seen on cloudless summer days. Her hair was a mess of tangles and stray curls, and seemed to have been in the process of moving of it's own volition when the photo was taken. The most shocking things about the image were the eyes, however. They glowed brightly in her blue face, a deep purple that the Doctor recognised from seeing the same in both Mike and John's eyes.

Well, that or the three legs. They were pretty shocking too.

"Doctor!" Rory pointed at the screen happily, and holding up one of the pictures he'd taken on the camera. "I think we've found our ash-footstep culprit."

"Indeed." The Doctor grinned, "This has rather given it away."

Amy was scanning the screen over Rory's shoulder, trying to find anything that might be of use in finding the aliens responsible for the spate of crimes over the last week and a bit. "Doctor" She interrupted The Doctor and Rory's conversation. "It says here that Evophantom are particularly vulnerable to high frequency sound waves. Couldn't that help find them?"

"It's not the best plan." The Doctor frowned, remembering how John had screamed when he'd used the sonic screwdriver in the Tardis.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Rory interrupted, shooting glances between The Doctor and Mike, who was sitting exactly where they'd left him, and eyeing the dry toast in his lap with thinly veiled disgust. "We have to find them somehow, they've still got Mrs Hudson!"

"If I may interrupt." Mike groaned, standing up. "I suspect they'd still be at the flat. You've hardly given them enough reason to move on."

The Doctor could sense an insult in there somewhere. "Well then, to Baker Street!" He announced, flicking a switch to get the Tardis moving and barely disguising his grin when Stamford sat down sharply. Ha, that'd teach him to insult his investigative abilities.

…

Sherlock bound up the stairs with his usual enthusiasm, leaving John to take a few deep breaths and follow him up with a stoic 'we-might-as-well-get-this-over-with' expression. By the time he'd caught up with Sherlock, the detective had already pushed the door open.

Following Sherlock into the room, John was greeted with the strangest sight, and that was definitely saying something coming from the man who lived with Sherlock Holmes and had spent a few months living life as a Victorian.

Staring at them was them.

No, that wasn't the best way to put it at all. Facing them from across the room was themselves. Or at least, extremely good replicas of themselves. The only thing that had John convinced they weren't just gazing into a mirror was the fact that the two men facing them had burning purple eyes. Last time he'd checked, his had still been brown.

Sherlock was the first to recover, the men opposite them seemingly frozen in the same state of shock John found himself in.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked, always straight-to-the-point. "And what are you doing in my flat?"

There was a tense moment of silence wherein the couple opposite them exchanged a look. Other John had opened his mouth to speak when there was an almighty crash from the doorway - and all four of them spun round to find themselves face to face with a very unhappy looking Rory, a cross Amy, and an excited Doctor.

"You came without us!" The Doctor pouted, moving further into the small room so as to leave space for Mike to stand in. When he finally arrived, that is.

"Sorry." Sherlock shrugged, not moving his eyes from his body-double. "I guessed it wouldn't take you long to catch us up."

"I'm disappointed in you, John." The Doctor frowned his way. "You're supposed to control him."

"Don't drag me into this." John replied, still stunned. He waved towards his doppelganger. "… does my hair really look like that?"

Rory glanced between the two Johns. "Yes." He shrugged, wondering when it had become a common occurrence for him to be playing spot-the-difference with an _alien _and _actual _Doctor John Watson.

"I really need a haircut." Was John's response.

The Doctor had apparently decided that they had had more than enough time now to deal with being faced with alien versions of themselves, (and hell that would never _not _sound strange), because he clapped his hands and stepped in between the matching sets of flatmates.

"Right" he announced, "I think we have found our impostors."

"No shit, Sherlock." John ground out. Then widened his eyes apologetically when everyone in the room turned to stare at him.

Sherlock frowned. "I didn't say anything."

"Sorry." John grimaced, "It just sounded right. Like, 'You _don't _say, genius.'"

Sherlock blinked slowly. "Well as long as it was a round-a-bout compliment…" He grinned lopsidedly in John's direction.

The Doctor coughed loudly, and everyone snapped their attention back to him again, just as Mike came puffing up the stairs and into view. He was now in full Evophantom form after a hurried agreement that it was probably best not to completely confuse John and Sherlock by announcing that their mutual friend was actually an alien.

"Sorry I'm late." Mike panted. "You move too fast. Far too much-" He waved his hands in the air in front of him. "-running."

Sherlock turned from Mike, eyebrows raised, to the Doctor. "Care to explain?"

The Doctor grinned. "It would be my pleasure." He stated. "You see, Michael here is an Evophantom. The Evophantom are a race of aliens from a planet a dozen or so galaxies away, best known for their shape-shifting abilities and love of literature." He paused, waving the last statement away, then continuing his explanation at double the speed. "Anyway, these-" he gestured towards the still-silent Other John and Other Sherlock, "are a couple of star-struck children who decided to try their luck at being you."

"_Why_?" John asked, and it sounded so deep and metaphorical that he realised he had better explain. "I mean, why us?"

Other Sherlock opened his mouth. "Because of the books!" He announced, then went silent and withdrew into himself after a sharp glance from Mike. Well, it was either the glare from Mike or the appraising look from Sherlock.

Scratch that, it was definitely the look from Sherlock. The poor kid looked like he was going to faint.

"Books?" Sherlock asked.

"We have books derived from your so-called 'blog' back at home." Mike stated, sounding so bored about it all that no-one thought to question him. Amy was incredibly impressed with his acting abilities.

"Oh Jesus." John muttered, lowering his head into his hands. "I really should spell-check it more then."

Mike shrugged one bright blue shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Doctor, you were explaining." Sherlock prompted, having seemingly decided to just take everything said in his stride, and ask questions later. It had clearly worked better than John's 'panic slightly at everything' tactic, which had him barely moving in the corner.

"Yes." The Doctor nodded, watching as Mike glared the Other Sherlock and John into resuming their Evophantom shapes. "These two were responsible for the kidnapping of Mrs Hudson, the fire in Baker Street, and the cases you've been investigating for the past couple of months."

"The murders?" Rory shuddered, stepping back a little. "I sort of forgot about them."

The alien that had previously been Sherlock took a deep breath, rolling his eyes and glancing between Sherlock and Mike. "They weren't actual murders." He shook his head. "Just an interactive image created by a perception altering field."

"I swear to God if someone mentions perception filters again I am going to go insane." John muttered into his hands.

"I think you should probably take a break for a bit John." Amy pursed her lips, "Why don't you go and get Mrs Hudson?"

John smiled at her gratefully. "Where-"

"Downstairs in 221C." Mike answered, he'd been muttering quietly with the two child impostors in the corner.

"Right. Well. See you in a minute." John nodded, backing towards the staircase before disappearing down it gratefully.

There was another silent moment in which Mike pulled a notepad seemingly out of nowhere and began taking notes, muttering under his breath as he did so. The two Evophantom stood silently, fidgeting and taking furtive glances at Sherlock, then looking down and blushing a furious green. The Doctor looked to be avidly inspecting something outside. Amy and Rory just moved closer together and waited quietly for someone to give in and break the silence.

"You know" The Doctor said suddenly, "I think that you should probably be going."

"I couldn't agree more." Mike sighed, "We have quite a bit to discuss." He looked in Sherlock's direction. "I think you and I should probably have a talk at some point about why exactly Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are clearly experienced in dealing with aliens, Doctor."

The Doctor shuffled his feet guiltily. "Yes, well. I'll pop round when everything here is sorted, shall I?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Yes, thank you." He nodded, gripping the elbows of the two teenagers, then disappearing in a flurry of noise. Amy could've sworn she heard excited chattering from the two aliens; ('Did you see him? He's just like he is on the telly!', 'total OTP!') but she put it down to being sleep-deprived.

…

John knocked lightly at the door of 221C. "Mrs Hudson?" he called, as he turned the stiff key he'd collected from her flat in the lock. "Are you in there?"

He was greeted with a cheery shout. "Yes dear! Are you finished with your latest test?"

John frowned. "What? Actually - don't worry. I'm going to need to kick the door, it's a bit jammed… Can you move away from it?"

There was an audible sigh. "Of course."

After a few well-aimed kicks at the splintering door, (and John would never get tired of being able to do that again), it cracked neatly just behind the locks, and swung open to reveal Mrs Hudson sitting calmly in an armchair with a cup of tea and a frown.

"You broke my door." She accused.

John found himself, once again, without words. "Erm, hello Mrs Hudson." He tried. "Sorry about, y'know, the door."

"That's quite alright, I do expect you to fix it before you leave though."

"Leave?"

"Aren't you going back home soon?"

"I am home." John said slowly. "I live here."

Mrs Hudson frowned and leant forwards, squinting at John's face. "Oh!" she giggled, "Sorry John, dear. I thought you were the other one."

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out through his mouth. "The alien one, you mean?"

"Yes" Mrs Hudson nodded. "But you're not. Can I come out now?"

John just nodded, dumbfounded. "I think you need to come upstairs first." He said, floundering a little.

"Right, of course." She nodded. "I'll just leave this here." She put the half-full teacup back on a small table next to the armchair, then bustled past John into the hallway. "Oh, look!" She exclaimed happily, pointing at the hidden staircase. "I never knew I had another floor."

John wondered if she was in shock, or actually just insane. "It was hidden, before." He sighed.

"Well, obviously, dear." Mrs Hudson turned to him, peering at his face. "You know, you don't look too well. Maybe you should go for a lie down?"

"Soon." John promised, as much to himself as to her. Then followed her obediently upstairs.

…..

Sherlock had been quizzing the returned Mike for the last ten minutes. Rory had absolutely no idea how the poor man hadn't spontaneously combusted under the hard stare of the detective.

"So this is your fault?" Sherlock folded his arms.

"As I've said before-" Mike rubbed a hand across his eyes, "This was a mistake made thanks to a hole in our security measures. I am not a security guard."

"What exactly is your job?"

"I'm a fiction man."

"Fiction man?"

"Like a fire man, but specialising in fiction as opposed to fires." Mike bit back sarcastically. "Often shortened to Fan man actually. Or fan boy. Fan girl if you're female."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here then, if this was a security breach and had nothing to do with fiction?"

The Doctor decided that was definitely his cue to cut in, and he did so - waving his hands about in an accurate representation of a windmill. "Right, that's enough ladies!"

"Oi!" Amy cried, "You don't see me making a fuss!" Rory shrugged as Sherlock grinned in her direction.

"Erm, that's enough men?" The Doctor corrected himself, looking to Amy for approval. Mike groaned aloud.

"Can I leave now?"

Sherlock folded his arms, his attention back on the evophantom. "Shouldn't you pay for the fire damage?"

Mike reached into another hidden pocket and withdrew a small device, which he then threw at the Doctor. "You'll know what to do with it." He said. "Any other questions, you know where to find me." And he disappeared again.

"What is it Doctor?" Rory asked, pointing at the device.

"It's a setting designer." The Doctor grinned, "Oh, that's brilliant!"

"Setting designer?"

"I can fix the settin- Baker Street." The Doctor grinned, "The setting of your, erm, life."

Sherlock's lips quirked upwards. "Oh good, John was rather upset about the armchair."

….

"We'll be back" The Doctor promised, gripping John in a tight embrace and kissing the air either side of his cheeks. "Promise."

"Yeah, well. When you do, make sure you leave your extraterrestrial mates at home." John smiled, shaking Rory's hand while Sherlock gave Amy a farewell kiss on the cheek.

Rory shrugged. "I'll do my best." he vowed, "But I make absolutely no promises."

"That, I do not blame you for." John grinned. It seemed even the most well-laid plans disintegrated in the Doctor's presence.

The Doctor had since moved to watch the goodbyes from a corner, a sad sort of look in his eyes. He'd asked Sherlock if Lestrade had contacted him with any new cases, and been told that they had a few lined up - something about geeks and a man called 'Knight'.

He knew the Fall wasn't far away.

Mind you, he also knew that Sherlock had pocketed one of the perception filter devices from Mike when he wasn't looking. And he didn't have to check his jacket to know that the psychic paper he always found so useful was also missing. He grinned.

You never knew when it was going to be useful to create the image of a dead body, or be able to move around the country with ID that proclaimed you as someone else.

The doors to the Tardis opened when The Doctor snapped his fingers in their direction, and he turned round proudly. John grinned, and waved as Rory and Amy went to join the Doctor in the blue box. They were about to shut the door and leave when a greeting from the doorway had them pausing.

"Hello dears!"

'Panicked' didn't quite cover the look on the Doctor's face as he glanced between himself and the entrance of the flat.

Mrs Hudson strolled in calmly, holding a plateful of biscuits and with a couple of bottles tucked under her arm. She tutted when she saw them. "Leaving already?"

The Doctor looked to Rory for help. He shrugged. "I- Sorry?"

"That's quite all right, I did suspect you wouldn't hang around for long." Mrs Hudson said, patting John on the arm as she passed him and holding out the plate and bottles to Amy. "I've got you some biscuits and lemonade for the journey - you all look about ready to drop."

"Thank you" Amy smiled, taking them and sniffing the warm biscuits appreciatively. "You're a star."

"So I've been told." The landlady smiled. "Do come and visit!"

"We will." Rory promised, mouth full of chewy cookie. "These are really good." Mrs Hudson ruffled his hair in response.

"You'd be a brilliant companion." The Doctor stated, looking to everyone else for back-up. "Wouldn't she?"

"You've said that before."

"Well then." He nodded. "It must be true."

When they did finally leave, smiling and waving and full of doughy goodness, the three travellers decided they were the happiest they'd felt in a long time.

As John leant into Sherlock's side, their flat finally alien-free and Mrs Hudson back in her rightful place, he couldn't agree more.

…..

Once in flight Rory headed to the bedrooms to collect the blankets and pillows, (Amy and the Doctor had voted for making a bedding fort in flight around Venus. He'd have preferred Pluto.) Amy had followed the Doctor around the console, pushing at random shiny buttons and hoping for the best.

"So the Evophantom… could they do that with any book?" She asked, leaning her hip against the console beside where the Doctor was busy prodding at an exposed wire.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." The Doctor looked up at her, grinning. "You should see what they've done with Potter."

**A/N: And that, my friends, is that. Forgive me whilst I sob quietly in the corner and clutch my 'companions and their geniuses' t-shirt to my chest. **

**Feedback? Pretty please? As always, I'll pm a reply to all reviews given on this chapter (: **


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